to the manor born
I had written a post a long time back when I had been touched by a simple unexpected gesture coming from a little boy. One does not expect such acts by children belonging to what is called poor homes! And yet one does need to be born in a manor to have impeccable manners.
Yesterday morning Xavier and I went to the foster care to share a cup of tea with the children. AS we arrived they has just finished breakfast and we pulled up two chairs and set with them. Soon the tea arrived. Manu who sat as usual at tho head of the table was a tad fidgety and one could not fathom why as he has been all smiles since he has moved into his own place!
Before I go on I must explain to you the lay out of the veranda of the foster care. In the center there is a dining table and in one corner are two easy chairs with a coffee table.
After a while Manu got up and walked to the easy chairs. He cleaned the table with his hand and then gestured to xavier to come and sit in one of them. As I was busy talking he loudly called out Ma’am yahan a (ma’am come here) pointing to the other chair. I did as told and carried my cup of tea with me. He then pulled up a dining chair and sat with us a huge smile on his face.
Manu has spent most of his 36 years roaming the streets. He was what one may call a beggar. His own family was rather uncouth and coarse and most of the people who crossed his path were the same. Yet the day he gets a home, Manu the mentally and physically challenged soul behaves like a perfect host!
I wonder what it takes to be to the manor born!
Rinky, Saheeda, Pooja can hear us
Tommy can you hear me sang the Who in their famous rock opera way back in 1970! Soon we at project why will be singing Rinky, Saheda, Pooja can your hear us! These were the words of an earlier blog written about four months back.
Today we are singing with pride and emotion: Rinky, Saheeda, Pooja can hear us! Yesterday they were fitted with their brand new digital hearing aids and could hear for the first time in their lives! There have been many blessed moments in the project why story but this one was one of a kind.
Rinky, Saheeda and Pooja are fantastic girls. With help from no one they learnt to get over their impairment and not simply survive but live life to its fullest. Rinky today works part time in a beauty parlour and has her very own clients! Saheeda is multi talented and will soon be starting training as a beautician. Little Pooja is endearing, bright and full of potential. They have all evolved their own sign language and can communicate with any and everyone and are all mean dancers who can fool anyone as nobody would believe that their perfect steps are done to music they cannot hear.
When they were fitted with their hearing aids they were first perplexed but then all smiles as they heard their very first sound. We are all moved to tears. However we know that this is just the very first step and there is a long way to go. They will need to learn to make sense of what for quite some time will just be incomprehensible noise disrupting their once silent world.
It maybe easier for little Pooja as she is still young, but for the older ones the journey will be an arduous one, with frustrating moments and we will have to be with them all the way. But somehow I know that these three exceptional girls will overcome all obstacles and come out as winners.
Today they spent a long time with two wonderful souls Jo and Dagmar who started on the thrilling journey of teaching them basic sound. It was moving to see them try and voice the sound that come so easily to us but that often became simple shrieks or groans. Yet they kept smiling and trying as if they were driven by a frenzy to make up for so many lost years.
walls visible and invisible
It is a sad but unequivocal reality that there exists two Indias. In spite of all talk of unity and integration the truth is that we are a fractured society in strange and multiple permutations and combinations. There are the rich and the poor; the ones that speak English and those who do not; the one that belong to one caste or the other; the rural and the urban; the traditional and the modern; the ones that belong to one faith or another. The list in not only endless but mind boggling as it follows no logic at all but seems to suit different vested interests at different times!
I am still watching with utter helplessness the building of the 2 kilometer wall that will soon encircle the homes of many of our kids and that is being erected to block out the slum dwellers from their middle class neighbours! Wonder what it will take to see this wall fall. In Satara it took a threat of suicide by 100 dalit families and three years to bring down a 150 meter wall that was erected to confine them to one part of the village.
In both cases the wall was built by a court order!
Even policies meant to bridge differences turn out to be quite farcical as they too tend to crate further walls and often seem to be steered by hidden political agendas as is the case with the present debate on the creamy layer that is undoubtedly giving many a sleepless night to politicians.
Yesterday for the first time I traveled in a luxury tourist bus coach. We were taking some friends to see our plot of land. To my utter dismay I found another wall! The driver’s cabin was separated by a glass door from the rest of the coach. The coach was air conditioned to almost freezing temperature but the driver’s cabin was not. It simply had a small fan and was incredibly hot. I was shocked to say the least as to my mind it is in the drivers hand -quite literally – that lay the safety of his passengers and not having a door would have made scant difference in the comfort of the passengers.
There are walls everywhere, visible or invisible!
Donna
This painting is one of a set sold by Iride, an Italian artist, to help sustain project why. I have never met Iride and she has never visited project why. She came to know about it through a volunteer who spent a few weeks with us.
Of all the paintings that she sent, this one entitled Donna touched me the most. Somehow it depicted the sum and substance of project why: an eternal quest for answers to all disturbing questions that come our way. The painting in its evocative strokes spells hope and belief. The faceless donna represents to my mind all those still waiting for a better morrow.
Iride is also one of those wonderful souls that have reached to help project why without finding it imperative to check antecedents, balance sheets etc. She was just touched by what she heard and maybe saw through pictures and followed her heart.
Donna also symbolises all the hearts the world over who have reached out and helped us all along. I am often asked, usually by the media, where our funds come from. The answer all expect is some well defined and established entity: an organisation or institution. But that is not the case with project why and I am often at a loss to find the words to explain the source of my funds as they come from the heart something that seems to have become terribly unfamiliar in the world we live in. They ask for numbers but how can I make them understand that a tiny amount or a huge one has the same value when it comes from the heart.
Iride’s painting touched my heart!
You can see some of her other paintings here
| www.flickr.com
|
hope and despair – an India song
India is a strange brew of hope and despair. It has often been defined as unity and diversity. Sadly I hardly see the unity but thank heaven there is some form of diversity as portrayed by the two stories of two girls lying in hospital beds in two cities.
In a hospital in Aurangabad lies a smiling girl. She is mentally and physically challenged and was dropped at outside the hospital six months back. Since that day the hospital staff took care of her with love and tenderness. They also thought it necessary to find a Government run home that would adopt her as they felt she needed appropriate upbringing. Sadly no one responded and the few who did simply said they did not have the resources to care for such a child. Thank God as knowing the state of such institutions , little Soni is better off in a place where she is treated as a human being and smothered with love. We all know how such institutions are! Is that not why the idea of planet why came to us. And seeing Manu in his new home blows away even the slightest doubt that one may have.
In another city a father is trying to sell his son to save his daughter! Sixteen year old Babita needs an open heart surgery and the poor father has no way of raising the 300 000 Rs needed to save his child. By heart went out to this family as pictures was flashed across the screen of the father, mother and son wearing boards around their necks and walking the streets. The image seared my very soul and though some cynical minds may call it a stunt, for me it was a picture of despair. Maybe after the story has been aired someone will come forwards. Anyway we intend to find out the details and try and help!
Both these stories highlight once again the disparity between the two Indias and the total failure of government policies be it for the challenged or the poor.
Incredible India! The slogan acquires a totally new meaning.
quotas revisited
In 2006 I had written a post about the total ignorance of most OBC parents about reservations in education. Sometime later I had highlighted he quasi impossibility for genuine cases to get the prized OBC or SC certificate and the absurdity of government forms.
Last week the Supreme Court confirmed reservations for OBCs excluding the creamy layer. Something that seemed acceptable to many but even before copies of the said judgement left the precinct of the Court a hot debate had begun about redefining the creamy layer in order onec again to protect vote banks et al!
The indubitable truth is that without a ‘proper’ definition of the creamy layer few OBCs will reach the portals of higher learning. And the debate will continue endlessly and aimlessly. No one is interested in improving government schools, containing drop out rates to ensure that deserving candidates have a chance to reach the gates of IITs and IIMs, while youngsters like Shiv will find their place in the sun.
A recent article highlights this in no uncertain terms. 90% of India’s children drop out of schools! These are figures of the HRD Ministry. And what becomes clear form this is that the first aim should be to ensure that children cross the boundaries of school. Sadly instead of cleaning up the mess existing in primary education our politicians are now busy redefining the creamy layer as the SC judgement defined the creamy layer or elite as defined in 1993 where the slab was put at annual incomes not exceeding 250 000 Rs.
The exclusion of the creamy layer did satisfy many anti reservationists but does not ensure political benefits and hence the debate will continue and the plight of children 60 years after independence will remain the same.
where are we going…
Saturday in the dead of night a 12 year mentally challenged girl was raped by a neighbour. A day before hat a 6 year old was raped by an acquaintance, and on he same day a 3 year old was raped by a neighbour!
Child abuse is the worst kind of crime that exists. And yet more often than not the accused get away with minor sentences while the child is left with scars that never heal. I have often asked myself what makes a man rape a child. What frustration, sick need, pervert desire makes a man commit this heinous act. It does not seem to be simply a disease as many think as the numbers are too high. There seems to be a rape an hour of not more and statistics show that over 60% are rape of minors and often many such cases go unreported. Even in this case the police registered the FIR hours later. By that time the rapist had fled.
My mind goes back to our Ghaziabad girls, many of whom were mentally challenged and had been sexually abused for years while in the care of a so called ashram. In spite of our best efforts we could not get much done. The abuser is on bail and the girls in some institution or the other where one annot even meet them.
How do we put an end to this? Are we going to allow children to be raped and abused ad infinitum. I guess this is not a vote bank and hence political parties will remain uninterested. But are we as a society doing? And how many times are we going to get away by saying: I hand my head in shame!
When is it going to stop!
What we all forget is that as Herbert Ward said child abuse casts a shadow the length of a life time.
Why am I being worshipped?
Little Lali is just little over a month old. She was born with a rare medical condition that gave her two eyes, two mouth, one chin and one pair of ears. When you look at her picture she just looks like any child, sleeping without a care in the world.
As soon as news of her birth was heard ritual India woke up once again and heralded the reincarnation of Goddess Durga. And as the news spread religious frenzy was out at its best. And little innocent Lali became the centre of a media blitz and even war. The family started minting money! News channel fought for exclusivity, people offered money, there were even those who wanted a temple built in her name! The world wide web was buzzing about her and all kind of questions were being fired: is she one or two individuals? does she have one or two souls? Only one thing seemed to be clear. Though she seemed to be all right, having two skulls fused together makes surgical intervention impossible.
For those who want more information on Lali a search on Google is ample. This post is not intended to throw light or sensationalize Lali’s story. There is enough of that. I simply want to highlight some issues which seem to have taken a back seat amidst all this frenzy.
In India we have just ended the 9 days of worship to Durga, the Prime Goddess. This happens twice a year. People fast, go to temples, and make offerings and on the last day worship little girls. Almost three years back I had written about this very ritual in a post entitle: Why am I being worshiped today?
To be born a girl in India is not bed of roses. What awaits you is a akin to a game of Russian roulette. The number of girls killed before they are born is chilling and the policies that the Government comes up with are zany and amidst all this our little girl child simply survives.
But let us get back to Lali. One God knows how long this little endearing little soul will survive. Her plight reminds me of that of circus freaks of the XIXth century or the Elephant Man so beautifully portrayed in a sensitive David Lynch film. As a friend said maybe little Lali with two brains has exceptional qualities and intelligence. But would these ever be honed and allowed to bloom. The way things stand in India she will never attend a school, or be allowed to live the normal life of a child. Her odd appearance will always stand in the way of every step she takes. How long with the family so willing to accept her now, will continue to do so? How long with the press so eager to get their exclusivity continue to consider her TRP worthy? How long will the people flock to her home to worship her a throw few coins her way? How soon will she be forgotten? How soon will she become another medical case to experiment on? How soon will someone decide that she is not a Goddess but a demon? I have already heard such whispers.
My heart goes out to little Lali who looks so innocent and unaware of what is going on around her and wonder what plan God has for her. My heart goes out to Lali as I sit wondering what one can do to make her life simply normal.
Sadly I cannot at this moment see any solution.
what is the solution
Haves versus Have Nots – what is the solution? Do we have the courage to look the problem in the eye and commit time, money and energy to really think about it and solve it one step at a time? Or will be just safely jump to either extreme of ignorance/arrogance on one hand or deep, unrealistic sympathy on the other????
This was the comment posted by a friend in response to my post out in the open. This after some interesting comments we exchanged. Some of the comments were harsh I must confess, particularly when I read them the first time. But I have since long curbed my instinctive urge to react immediately and take time to read things over and over again. And then one sees things in another light altogether and this helps makes to one again make one of the now innumerable course corrections needed.
Two comments struck particularly hard.
If I was to extend your sympathy equally to all mankind a lot of human crime could be justified... I sat a long time wondering whether this could be true. Right from the outset of pwhy our effort has been towards attempting to empower people to stand on their own feet and take charge of their lives. That is why we chose to give jobs to local people, mostly unqualified, tried to hone the skills they had and show them that they could rise above their present station in life. Today over 40 people have been able to do so and not only that have been able to perform exceedingly well. My class IX drop outs are today primary teachers who ensure that all children under their care pass their examinations year after year! And our dream is to try and instill in our students the desire to go back to their place of origin with new skills and expertise and share it with others. My harangue against the wall was in no way a justification of people illegally occupying land, but against those who have allowed it to go on for decades to garner ever increasing vote banks; against those who have looked away for a the few pennies dropped in their bottomless pockets!
As far as extending sympathy equally to all mankind, that is an impossibility for any human and I am not supernal. I fully agree with that people are not born equal as my friend puts it, but at the same time all Indians are protected by a single Constitution that does give them some fundamental rights!
The other comment that struck me was: There is no doubt that India cannot be a decent, forget great country, if its children and its impoverished are not given help to rise above their limitations and earn a dignified living but allowing them to illegally occupy public property is NOT a solution…it is the kind of wishful thinking we need to avoid so we come up with more realistic, sustainable, solid answers…
This is exactly what I have been harping about for 9 years. And sadly those who are meant up to find the realistic, sustainable, solid answers have failed totally. It seems that no one has the courage to look the problem in the eye and commit time, money and energy to really think about it and solve it one step at a time?
This is evident in string of supposed solutions proffered with obsessive regularity by the law makers: a wall to solve a habitat problem, the have a girl leave her to us to solve female infanticide, designer uniforms to solve the abysmal state of government education ans so on. It is time that we as civil society reacted and made our voices heard. Just being armchair philosophers and not even moving out of it to exercise our franchise will perpetrate the state of votes for a pouch of hooch and governments that will continue their hidden and wily agendas.
India’s problems cannot be solved by a flick of a magic wand. It also needs all approaches and between extreme arrogance and unrealistic sympathy lies a middle path that tries to extend positive help and also attempts at trying to shake people out of the state of inertia they have allowed themselves to sink in.
In a land when Bhakti and Karma are both ways to reach the sublime, I guess our approach is also valid.
not a fairy tale
Once upon a time there was a young man named Manu. The Gods had not been kind to him as he was sent to earth almost 40 years ago with a fractured mind and a wobbly body. His mom like all moms did tend to this odd child with care and love and he spend his early years in security.
But the Gods intervened again and took his mother away. Manu was left to the care of two small sisters who did show him some compassion. But as all young boys he too wanted to discover the world and venture out of the four walls of his tiny dark hovel.
True the sun was bright, the winds soothing and the roads full of new things waiting to be stumbled upon. But Manu did not know that he did not look like others as he crawled on his useless legs and did not understand that beyond the sun, the wind and all natures bounty existed people who were never kind to anyone who did not look like them. But Manu’s spirit was indomitable and he set out to find out what life was.
Soon his sisters got married and the little love that could heal the day’s scorn disappeared. In its place came a daunting sister-in-law whose bards were worse than those he had to bear with. The one safe walls became threatening and Manu started spending his night roaming the streets. His drunk dad had no time for him. His clothes got tattered, his hair unruly, and is body infested with wounds. Kids threw stones at him just to hear him scream, car drivers revelled in scaring him and sometimes hit him.
Sometimes a kind soul would hurl abuses at the family and Manu was given a bath and his head was shaved. Poeple fed him as you would an animal, if we got too hungry he would rummage through garbage dumps. People would shun him. His sister in law would send him to beg at the local temple and promptly appropriate the few coins that would be in his torn pocket. Everyone would commiserate on is miserable plight and wish him to die wondering what sin he must have committed for such a life.
But he soldiered on, weathering all storms, spending nights in the bitter cold, lying alone after a severe epileptic fit, dehydrated under the scorching sun, bearing all abuse and not giving up life as if he knew that it was not yet over and that something would happen the next day. God ways are mysterious and he had a plan for him. Manu the seemingly useless, pathetic, forsaken soul had his own mission, one that still needed to be unravelled and though he could not express it, he knew he had to carry on.
Then one day someone came his way and stopped. In his eyes and the beginning of a smile she saw what she was looking for and felt that this was a blessed moment for both of them. In her mind flashed an image: Manu in his own home, having his own bed and living a life of dignity and hope. But the road to that dream was to be a long one. And all along the way many lives would be transformed. Manu’s life changed slowly. And though he was safe during the day, his nights were still spent roaming lonely streets.
Soon he had friends just like him who reached out to him. Warm meals came his way as well as a daily bath. He learnt to dance, to sing, to learn basic skills. He went for outings and birthday parties and even the movies. But the final destination seemed still a chimera. Then some time back the idea of foster care home emerged and it was with incomprehensible fervour that all worked towards its creation.
Two days back Manu had his home. A soft bed, a TV, roomies, caretakers who became pals. Everyone wondered how he would react to this new life so different from the one he had lived for years. But all fears were set aside as he spent his first night sleeping like a baby after having watched TV and eaten a warm meal. Yesterday evening Manu even took charge of his home as he ordered the evening meal of potatoes and rotis, his favourite treat and even asked to call Shamika and tell her what he had done. Like all fairy tales, this one too must end with: and he lived happily forever!
I must confess that after that telephone call, both Shamika and I wept like babies!
Breakfast at tiffany’s …oops pwhy
This picture is very special. It is a snapshot of the first breakfast shared by the inmates of our foster care programme. But is is much more than that. It is the inalienable proof that everything is possible provided you are truly committed to see it happen.
Who would have believed that someone who had lived like a beggar for years, rejected by his own family, shunned by society could one day sleep in a comfortable bed and share a meal with friends and pals.
And there is more who would have thought that a bunch of kids born with almost everything against them could one day aspire to reach any destination they chose to. This is not a moment to be proud of but a moment to be grateful for as what we are witnessing is nothing short of a miracle and miracle are not made by humans, they are of the realm of the celestial.
But miracles are fragile and heavenly beings testy. The onus rests on us to ensure that the miracle does not go awry. If it were to happen than the magic could never be recreated; huge cracks would remain and the future of innocent souls would be jeopardized.
A tall order its is. One where each one of us has to learn to rise above our own limitations, our egos, our individual ideas our likes and dislikes and work towards the commitment we have accepted with our eyes open and willingly. The situation is complex as most of these kids have heavy pasts and atavistic instincts that belong to a world where options are few and pitfalls many. Our challenge is to prepare them for a world where choices are limitless and rewarding.
Each one of us would love to spoil them, smother with love and care but that would be counterproductive and would not help them make the tough transition they have to make. And above all we all need to speak in the same language and respect the same rules as nothing is a better teacher than example.
This programme came our way not by choice but due to a series of unforeseen circumstances. But today it is a reality and gone are the times when we could still debate its validity or rationale. At best we can decide to close it once these little kids are in a boarding school and we find another similar option for Manu and Champa! But these little souls have to get our very best as towards them we have a life long commitment.
a strange brew of numbers
The Supreme Court yesterday upheld the reservation of 27% for OBC’s in higher institutions of learning with certain conditions. For once all political parties hailed the verdict. Not surprising as elections are around the corner and OBC’s form a large chunk of the electorate. And not surprising that debates have begun about the stipulated conditions: the creamy layer that has been excluded is now up for revision to protect vested interests!
I have often written about the reservation issue and to my mind the situation sadly remains unchanged on the ground. I am not for or against reservation I just want every child to get his or her place in the sun.
The reservation issue will never die unless we take steps to end it and find ways that will help deprived children step into a better world. The plight of children in today’s India is a lamentable an no one seems to be interested in doing anything for the very children who are supposed to reach the portals of high learning one day thanks to the very judgement pronounced yesterday. They are actually being shut behind shameful walls as they seem to disturb those sitting on the other side of the till recently an invisible wall. What we are witnessing is a further way of dividing an already fractured society. The real issues seem to be forgotten as each one is striving to save his own place in the sun.
In the light of all this the last shred of doubt about the validity and rationale of our new programme ,that still has not found a name to define its essence, vanishes once for all. It is not complex and unrealisable laws that will allow children from deprived homes to break the circle of hopelessness in which they are locked but simple and brave attempts like these. It is we renewed hope and determination that we take the first step towards changing four tiny lives.
Life on the planet is born of woman.
The Kamala centre is now six months old. Today over 120 children attend after school primary and secondary classes and over 50 women come for stitching and beauty classes. We intend to begin hygiene and nutrition workshops and even address some of the issues that plague urban slum women. Looks great and makes all the criteria needed to attract kudos and possible funds. However I am still not satisfied as I have been feeling that the real spirit seems lost in translation!
A recent news item and the accompanying visuals shook me out of the comfort zone I was inadvertently sinking in. A rape victim was brutalised by the rapist’s family and neighborhood and aspersions were cast on her character. She was called a drunk and that simple comment gave an uncaring society license to kill.
Just as in the past the so called law protectors made the needed noise and yet know that the noise will die and nothing will happen. We did try very hard to take up the cudgels for our dear Ghaziabad girls but the adversary was too strong and in spite of our best efforts we lost track of them. I pray that they are safe. Apologies for this digression but somehow it was necessary to jolt myself out of the dreaded comfort zone and rekindle the spirit of the woman centre.
True that sewing and beauty classes are great opportunities to empower women but they should actually simply be viewed as a mean to an end. The Kamala Centre is first of all a place where women rejected by society can find a refuge and the strength to rebuild their lives and walk in society their head held high. But more than that it is a forum where women need to learn to respect other women and stand by them no matter what their past may be. In yesterday’s incident it is women who beat the poor soul. In homes it is the mother in law that terrorises and ill treats her daughter in law. Crimes against women are too often perpetrated by women.
And therein should lie the spirit of the women centre. It has to teach women to turn the mirror towards themselves and look at reality. It has to free them of the shackles of mores and traditions and take charge of their lives and stand up for what is right. I know it is a difficult task and may look completely impossible at first. But here again we need to apply the simple resolve that made me move from a state of inactivity and ideals, to one of action and ideas: if you can change one life it would be worth it.
So to put in place the missing link and revive the soul of the women centre one has to change the attitude of one women. The rest will follow.
preeti is back
Preeti is back after almost a year! Her mother had one day decided to withdraw her from pwhy and send her to another place which I must confess did look prettier than pwhy and seemed to have and give much more. We were sorry to see her go as she was one of our first student and in spite of her stubborn ways she was an endearing child.
I can never forget the day when our friend Nauko had celebrated a Japanese festival where children are meant to write their dreams and tie them to a bamboo tree, Preeti had written hers: she wanted to be a mother.
I also remember the day when we launched our aloe vera project and the excitement on the face of this child as she held her very own pot. Sadly the project did not take off the way we would have liked it to. I hope it does one day, maybe on planet why!
As Preeti walked backed into her old classroom where her old and some new friends waited, she was as always all smiles. She pointed at a picture of hers that sat on the wall and wanted everyone to see it. She then tried to communicate again using her hands and signs. We were all shocked as when she was with us Preeti used language and words to communicate. It is true that she had a very limited vocabulary but she did speak. I wonder why in the school she went they treated her as a speech impaired child. Shamika was furious and decided to take matters in her hand and get her to speak again!
Seeing Preeti back was heartwarming as it proved that in spite of our limited resources we still manage to give our special children a happy place and one where they can fulfill their potential and prove to all those who consider them as disabled that they are simply differently abled.
Welcome back Preeti!
lofty ideas and stark realities
I have waged a war against teaching shops and as often pleaded for well run common neighborhood schools. I have watched over the years the desperate of parents rich or poor to get their children admitted in schools and have raged against the proliferation of private schools in poor neighborhoods that maybe a tad better than government schools but are still a far cry from education should be.
However once again my lofty ideas and ideals were given a rude shock when I read an article in a daily about the imminent closure of 1000 unrecognised schools, many in the very lanes we work in that cater to what is know as EWS – economic weaker sections -. The article presents both sides of the coin. Whereas the petitioner says Cramming students into a small space in dangerous environments and offering a sub-standard education are what we are fighting against. What about child rights? an activist retorts education in a substandard classroom is better than no education at all. Inflicting regularisation will deprive students of even basic education, homes in slums are not safe, and we are not expecting them to become doctors or lawyers.”
Where will students go when the schools close down?” adds another voice. “It can’t be denied that these schools fill a gap the government’s failing to meet”. The simplistic solution proffered is that the kids will be adjusted in government run schools.
Some years back, when I was still a neophyte and still starry eyed and naive,I would have whopped with joy at the news of teaching shops being closed as at that time I too felt that the conditions of some of these schools were abysmal and intolerable. In those days I had not yet discovered the reality of government run schools! But as years went by my lofty ideas were rudely shaken as the reality of such schools. became apparent: children in class IV unable to read or write, no toilets, no desks, no teachers only one constant – corporal punishment. AS we slowly began our after school support – teaching as well as confidence building – the same children considered useless began not only passing but getting better marks. How can I forget the young girl who came after failing class VII thrice and went on to secure the 11th position in Delhi in class XII!
True that some of the teaching shops that are facing closure are run in dreadful conditions, and many are undoubtedly money making operations, but they do take in children of migrant populations who do not have any official documents to prove their identity, thus giving these children a go at education.
Last week I was appalled to find out that a woman who comes to our women centre had put her 3 children in a private school at the cost of over 800 rs a month though her family is extremely poor. I came to know that he reason for doing so was that the kids born in a remote village did not have a birth certificate and thus has been refused admission in the local municipal school. She did not know that a simple affidavit would have solved the issue.
If the 10 000 schools are shut I wonder where the children will go. Municipal and government schools are already overcrowded and anyway barely function. Once again we are face with a court order population of that does not take into consideration the reality on the ground. Walls around slums do not solve the habitat problem, closure of schools does not solve the education problem. The government has to start looking at running proper schools that can cater to the growing polulation of Delhi or find ways of reversing migration by improving conditions in the place of origin of such people.
When we began pwhy, we were not aware of the conditions of schools. We had wanted to create a space for children where they could come after school and spend constructive time. Today our main task is to ensure that they pass their examinations and do not drop out. Like everything else in India it seems that the poor have been let down, forgotten, marginalised. Yet they are n intrinsic part of society and protected by the same Constitution. It is time we started bridging the gap between the two Indias.
a woman’s tale of woe
In April 2005 a young Pinky got married against her parents wishes. Like many young girls she had fallen in love and love as we all know is blind! The marriage was celebrated by her fiance’s family in a temple in the presence of some friends.
Pinky had a serious fall accidentally in September 2005 after a domestic quarrel and seriously injured her backbone. She was advised complete bed rest but did not follow medical advise and conceived a few months later and gave birth to a little boy in December 2006. Her husband continued his violent beatings Her husband had a history of violence and fits of rage, something the young girl did not know. In September 2005 after a domestic notwithstanding her medical condition, pregnancy or motherhood. Over time Pinky developed a defective spinal condition and a hunchback and is in constant pain. A corrective surgery could help her regain her health but her family is too poor for the whopping 70 K required.
Despite the protection offered by her unmarried sisters in law, the man continues to harass his wife and sisters and mentally torments them. Under the influence of alcohol he beats his wife and attacks the sisters when they try and protect her. he also threatened to kill her.
This is Pinky’s story. But is also the story of many women across India, women who suffer in silence and often die without a murmur being heard. There are laws meant to protect them but often they are unaware of these or worse the law keepers become predators and society is always ready to blame them.
We would like to help Pinky regain her health and have the operation she so badly needs to bring up her child. We have also filed a complaint with the help of our lawyer and hope we can beat the system. But this is just one case and one solution. It is time something was done to truly protect hapless and helpless women.
Out in the open
The children you see in this picture belong to Nehru Camp where we have been running a primary centre for over 3 years. Like all children they love to play, laugh, have fun and study. All of them cleared their examinations and have been promoted to the next class and there was great celebrations!
Their joy was short lived as two days ago 1000 shops and homes from the area were razed to the ground to make way for a five foot high wall that will encircle the three slum clusters of the area to hide them from the middle class colonies across the road.
The 2 km wall will encircle the three slum colonies of the area where there are over 10 000 homes. As I read the words of the article my blood ran cold and as I write these words I find it hard to contain my rage and my deep sense of shame as I unfortunately belong to the class of the so called perpetrators of this contemptuous act and my mind cannot but go back to ghettos and yellow stars.
“All my life savings have been used to purchase this flat. For 22 years I have lived with the stink from open defecation, and constant over-crowding from blocked roads.” says a resident of a neighbouring flat. “I feel bad for them,” says another whose own domestic help lives in Bhumiheen Camp. “They should be given an alternative home immediately.”
Post the new demolition and the repulsive wall, gutters will now flow directly into homes. Many of you may not know what such slums look like. Though to some of us they may seem an eyesore and an image from hell but they are far from that. They have been homes to people who have come to this city sometimes more than 2 or 3 decades ago. They have been built and nurtured with the same care we give to our homes. The residents are as much citizens of this city as we are and have the same voting rights. They are not aliens from another planet but those who work for us in more ways than one and give us much comfort. They have the same dreams for their children that we have for ours. They hurt, laugh, face problems and celebrate achievements just like we do. The ony difference is that they have been let down by the city’s so called administration and by the total lack of compassion that seems to have become the trademark of this city!
Everyone seems to think that hey should be relocated and given alternative accomodation. Everyone has been feeling that for a long time but what has the administration done? The DDA
claims “The wall is a temporary arrangement to offer protection to flat owners” Protection from what I ask. “It (the wall) should be at least eight foot high, and built either with bricks, or grills and mesh. There should also be fewer outlets” retorts another. “And what if there’s a fire?” asks a slum resident. “It will be much harder to escape if we are contained from all sides.”
I am thoroughly confused and at a complete loss. What are we talking about. Are we not all citizens of a same country, protected by the same constitution and laws. Who are protecting against whom. What is this new caste system that seems to have surreptitiously slinked into our social fabric and whose denominator is money. Is this also applicable to the legal system as the said wall is beeing erected on a High Court order in response to a Public Interest Litigation.
The wall will be completed on may 21st!
What a sad day it will be. Imagine the hurt and anger of the people condemned to live within that wall and the resentment that will take seed in young minds that may turn into violence and despair.
Till now invisible barriers divided the two Indias. With this wall the divide is out in the open.
Look at the children in the picture once again. Do we need to be protected from them?
birthday gifts
Spring by chance
I was born in spring,
Hope is my friend eternal, yet
Every footstep I hear tomorrow –
Trample on the dying today, like
Refrains from another mourning.
It’s been a while since I wrote last.
Wish it was the ‘block’ , isn’t –
Just spent the words worrying –
If history repeats, may be
Future is nothing but the past.
I’ve seen each end of time at once,
Fleeting towards the now, where hope
And fear; intersect to bring a whiff –
Of joy, residues of melancholy, whatever
Holds in a moment chosen by chance.
Al Raines
I’ll stand up to the waters
I saw it riding
On the waves –
The future is coming
I felt
Sweeping people in its wake –
I heard someone protest
I turned to see, who
It was –
My conscience.
It spoke without a tremor
Glancing at the gush –
I cannot sacrifice
This our now
In the name of a
Blind onward rush –
A tomorrow we cannot judge
To be the best,
Is not worth our while
I thought
And holding still, with a smile
I said
I won’t let
Go down –
What is our now,
For a growth
nobody’s own –
I’ll stand upto the waters.
Al Raines
The Journey
One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice–
though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles.
“Mend my life!” each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations,
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little, as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world,
determined to do the only thing you could do–
determined to save the only life you could save.
Mary Oliver
a quaint tale of two Indias
Yesterday was result day for children across Delhi: the rich and the poor alike. Every parent or guardian went to the school to get the dreaded school report.
Now were your child or mine to stand first in class there would be whoops of joy, hugs, smiles galore and a pat on the back from the teacher not to mention the gifts and treats that would ensue. And one would expect this to be true for all children who stood first.
But that is sadly not the case. Little Rahul, a class V student of the local municipal school and a regular pwhy kid stood first in his class. His simple parents went to school to get his report and instead of being greeted by smiles and kudos for the child, they were admonished by the teacher who said he did not believe that Rahul could top his class. The almost frightened father worn by years of being berated for being poor and deprived simply mumbled that if the teacher felt so he could cut some marks off the child’s report. But the mother could not bare the injustice being meted to her child butted in and said he attended tuition at project why and that is why he had fared well. The teacher grudgingly accepted the situation.
When I heard the story my blood boiled as it often does in such cases. I almost felt like marching to the school and placing a few home truths but past experience has shown that this is not the way to go as the teachers then take it out on the poor kid. So a glass of water it was and a bit of furious pacing to calm me down.
I simply promised myself to seek Rahul and give him a big hug and a small treat.
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.
These words said many years ago by Theodore Roosevelt sprung to my mind as I got the news yesterday that once again all the pwhy children had passed their examinations and been promoted to the next class.
I felt myself swell with pride. They had done it again these incredible kids that every one had given up on: their parents, their school teachers and society itself. Many had come to us as failures. In some cases we had to fight with parents wanting them to stop their studies. In other cases they has been branded as useless and gone cases. But for us every child can succeed, you only have to discover the right way.
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. My kids did just that! They do not have much. In some cases their homes are dark hovels, in others noisy rooms with no place to study. Our classes or what goes by that name are anything between a hot cramped room, a reclaimed garbage dump, a inclement terrace. Yet they are all infused with a spirit no one can beat. The determination of the children, the perseverance of the teachers and the passion of pwhy make a heady cocktail that can only spell success.
But the euphoria was short lived. Pwhy is a tiny island of hope in a terrifying sea where children get the rawest of deals. Not a day goes by without some news item that proves this point. Yesterday a child gets his face scarred for eating a biscuit, a class VIII student hangs himself because his results are not up to the mark. Politicians proffer empty words while the killer of a young girl remain faceless. A child lies unconscious after being being thrashed by his school principal. And the list goes on…
Abuse against children continues in spite of the media blitz, of the empty reassurance of politicians and administrators, in spite of the endless laws aimed at protecting them. When will all this end? Have we all lost our conscience and heart? Have we as civil society abdicated our right to be?
Will someone answer.